The eventide daydream
by ThatFlyingRabbit
Summary: Ciel Phantomhive. Average, boring 16 yr old. Sebastian Michealis. Seductive, flirty office worker. What will happen when these two very different paths collide. Might be mild yaoi... maybe


ThatFlyingRabbit here. This story came to me out of nowhere.

In actuality, it whacked me on the head T^T

There might be some mild, and I mean mild, yaoi in here

If you don't like yaoi PLEASE don't get put off!

There won't be much so just hang tight m'kay? Thank you ^_^

I lay pensive, on my back, in a familiar queen sized bed. The air conditioner seemed to switch between Antarctic and surface of the sun. Great. Yet another failure in my life.

Albert Einstein once said, "The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." I am not insane, not by any stretch of the imagination. I vary every experiment, every test of logic, even if by infinitesimal degrees. It has also been said that, "Only a fool expects rational behaviour from his fellow humans." I bit the side of my thumb and chewed, a frown marring my contemplative expression. A fool then, I thought. I am a genius and a fool.

People are so tiresome... Useless little land mines - sources of self-doubt and analysis. They are as lifelike dolls, trained to know a few things, but ultimately the space inside the mind is hollow. They offer nothing but a waste of time. Time I spend I mulling over my inability to apply my intellect to successfully blending into their social matrix, and thus, gaining their acceptance.

I watch them, the teeming mass of humanity, as if I am on a different plane. I am cut off from them just as surely as they cut themselves off from me. I am in colour, they in black and white. I watch them, much like children watch ant farms, and I wonder. I wonder how, why, in their inept scrambling's, is it that they have so much more to wring from life?

In my opinion, i am anything but an insomniac – it was not a label i would ever have applied to myself, because, not only am i incapable of staying up all day and all night (mostly due to my life-long routine of getting a good amount of sleep so that my highly prestigious studies didn't suffer), I also had no desire to. If I was to stay awake all of the time, I would quickly find myself in a predicament of boredom. Therefore, sleep it a necessary part of human life. Or at least in my life. So. Here I am, at the age of 16, sitting in an oversized bedroom and wondering if it would be any less so, if I had someone to share it with.

Man never takes the time to consider the precious hours that he spends just breathing, just thinking, just living. The lives of Homo sapiens have come to be all too complicated to enjoy the natural wonders, by which God has graced the land that they inhabit. Love and happiness being of those two, but I am not going to sit here and lecture on the points that should change in society. No, I will talk of certain members of society that tried to break the boundaries man himself set.

One boundary includes status. Human have always tried to give labels and titles to themselves. To boost pride, to be thought highly of, and to get the highest amount of opportunities in life. These are just a few reasons why status was, and is, so important. In all forms of kingdom, the good-looking reign, and parliaments no exception. The status of man has reared its ugly head. I have found, during my lifetime, that to be of high status you must be two things. Beautiful and rich. Studies have shown that most successful people are strong willed, but most importantly, good looking. May it's because man can't face its own imperfections, but I think it's just vanity. I myself am not good looking. I never have been, and never will be. What with my blue-grey hair, pasty white skin and large, blue, husky dog eyes, I am the visual personification of a vampire. Or perhaps porcelain doll. How fortunate.

Hopping of my bed, I meandered over to the door, grasping the doorknob and tugging it open. Click. I gave a satisfied sigh. For whatever reason, that one noise is just perfect. So simple, yet so satisfying. The sight that met my eye's, was that of an overused office. Paper lay strewn everywhere, pens were lodged in places where they don't belong, and, in short, it was a mess.

When you're young and working in a corporation, nothing's a joke. When you're sitting down in one of those office "spaces" – given the honour of the quotation because they never fulfil the true definition of the word – there's nothing to laugh about. You feel like a machine, constantly churning out either masterpieces or less-than-perfect pieces of trash, checking off things on that never-ending list, and working overtime without extra pay until you feel that your twelfth cup of coffee wouldn't even save you from the mercy of Death. The computer screen and the various things on it have started to engrave themselves into your mind, making you see small bright spots even when you close your eyes.

When you finally get home, there's nothing on your mind except deadlines, figures, quotas, and empty promises from your boss of bonuses which will, most likely, never make it into your pay check unless you happen to be a personal favourite. That bonus would be mine if I could only close off that deal on time... I shouldn't have met up with the guy in the copy room, damn it! But I'll get back to that at a later point. Now, I have to sleep, since I have to get up by five o'clock, and that's just three hours away…But I can't. No matter how hard I try, sleep won't bless me with its touch. Buzzing, buzzing all the time in your head, and the stress is good enough to send you straight to your grave if you're not careful.

Several young hopefuls don't have anything to hope for within a few months' time. Most of them end up just sitting back and watching all of their opportunities wave them goodbye and walk out the front door.

But there are a few who make it. Very few. And I was one of them. The only problem? That one guy. I shall name him the coffee room guy, as that was where I first saw him. So, as I was saying, coffee room guy is not your average 20 year old. Jet black hair, startling red eye's etc. The entire collection of unexpected facial features also. All in all, he is, in my opinion, well, he is beautiful. Of course, my opinion isn't to be held very high. I am, after all, just a lowly office worker.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Oh, I've been up all night again. To me, sleep is a fleeting being. Coming and going as it pleases. Beep. That blasted alarm clock! Pulling myself off the floor was a painful and seemingly pointless task, but, for the sake of all things that are silent, I tracked a path to my alarm clock… and promptly smashed it into smithereens. Beep. Or so I thought. The persistence of an alarm clock is to be admired though. If I was to be as committed to my job as an alarm clock is, I would surely be sitting in my own office, drinking fancy coffee, and aimlessly arranging my pen pot. I can dream right? Beep. In a finally attempt to stop that infernal beeping, I pressed the snooze button. Genius. Pure genius. If only my boss had a snooze button. Beep beep. What the…? Oh. My phone. Slinking to the couch was the best I could do. Sliding my feet along the polystyrene carpet would be something I will regret later, but it was necessary for not using up energy. I dug around under the seat for a second, before yanking my hand out in triumph.

Incoming call.

Alois Trancy.

…

If there was one word to describe Alois, frustrating-irritating-annoying-pain-in-the-ass would be the perfect fit. Admittedly, that wasn't really one word, but I bet it's in the dictionary of pointless beings. Being the big, sensible, respected grown-up that I am, I immediately hit the cookie jar, which was conveniently next to the couch, and let my phone ring until it got bored.

Silence. Oh praise the heavens, that infernal racket has stopped. Let the angels sing out endless choruses of hallelujah. Glorious, glorious and even more glorious. I stumbled over to the lattice window in ignorant bliss, through back the moping curtains and gazing lovingly at the feeble pavement below my apartment. Lifting my head to the sky, purely for dramatic effect, my eye caught tipsy clouds rolling aimlessly in the sky, the world spinning in drunken joy.

If my life was a musical, that would be the queue for a dramatic starting song like in hairspray or something. So, just to make myself seem special for a second, I burst out in a completely out of tune and utterly lyric less song that went along the lines of:

Goooooood morning

Oh, sunny eggs

The sky is shiiiiiiiining bright

May the sausages smile down on youuuuuuu As I make my breakfaaaaaaaaaaaast

Truly, I think writing my own musical would be a good move for me. CIEL: THE MUSICAL (Ciel is my name, in case anybody was wondering). It means 'sky' in French. How ironic. That I, a poor earth bound mammal, would be tortured with this mockery of a name. Oh, wretch that I am. Why? What have I done wrong? Okay, got a bit carried away there. Opps.

Having finished my early morning rant, I headed to the centre of my kitchen, just so I could have a stare of with my goldfish (who was sitting on the fridge). Damn. It won again. Drooping at the loss of my dignity, I walked, no, sulked back to my room. I all but kicked the door open, dodged a litter of dust bunnies and fell into my closet. Five minutes, ten, fifteen, twenty minutes later I emerge with a fair to decent outfit. It consisted of black trousers, a grey shirt and an also black Jacket. Oh, beautiful colours, I am so very bright today. Pha. Laughing mentally at my hilarious joke, I grabbed my keys off of the counter and headed to work. Ooooooh, how I do hate Mondays.

Well, that chapter 1 ladys and gents. What do you think?

R'n'R please ^^V

Constructive reviews are welcome, flames are not, thank you ^_^

Peace out


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